Down By The River

In Arizona, the word “river” takes on a different meaning than those areas with wetter climates. In December, 1944, German POW’s housed at a camp near Papago Park in Phoenix found this out the hard way. After a daring tunnel escape that included building a makeshift raft, three of them intended to float down the Gila River (or Salt River, depending on the source of the story) to freedom. Upon reaching the banks, they probably realized that their raft would be useless on this river for anything other than heat as a campfire, and promptly burned it.

Eventually they were captured…but not before learning what the native residents know; the word “river” in Arizona usually means a dry bed where water flows at times, and might flow if there were enough of it…but usually doesn’t most of the year.

So…the Sonoran desert isn’t the ideal place for natural-terrain water sports. What it is good for is miles and miles of trails. That’s what brought me to the banks of the Santa Maria River on this day. What a surprise, then, to see it looking like an actual river with good water flow. Snow-fall in the various mountains surrounding the area are to blame.

The Santa Maria is about half-way between the tiny town of Hillside, AZ, and the larger-but-still-small mining town of Bagdad, AZ. There isn’t much in these areas…and in fact, a small piece of Arizona not too far away bears the perfect name: Nothing, AZ.

In my years in Arizona before I could trail ride, I often rode my street motorcycle on the two-lane roads connecting these towns with other small Arizona towns like Kirkland, Congress, and Wickenburg. And of course, I noticed all the trails heading off into the unknown…and vowed someday to ride them. Today was the day I would start to make good on that promise.

So after I unloaded, I started making my way through the maze of river-side trails common to camping hot-spots. After finally finding the river's edge, I snapped off a few pics of the flowing water, and just stood there for a few minutes listening to this uncommon sound here in the desert. Later I would return to take in the sight of a setting sun on the rugged rock lining this bend, but for now I was off into the desert.

I forget how much I love the low desert until I come back to it. The desolate, yet filled-with-life beauty of this rugged land amazes me. Something in it has a distinctive smell that comforts me, and even before turning a wheel I was already in a better mood. I can imagine how daunting it must have been to try and eke out a living here when the first settlers moved in, yet I understand fully why they may have put in the effort. The terrain here consists of lots of rocks…LOTS of rocks, and just about every type of sticky bush, cactus, or tree in existence. Certainly, if nothing else, I would put my tires to the test.

From looking at Google Earth, it appeared that a set of trails roughly paralleled the paved highway between Hillside and my staging spot, and my plan was to follow them in this unfamiliar area. Should something go wrong, it would be a short hike to help. I like to stay close to my tow vehicle in new areas, and today would be more about feeling out the place than long trips into the back-country.

Soon enough I was winding my way through washes, over ridges, and around towering Saguaro on two-track leading off into the distance as far as the eye could see. The only people I encountered here were hunters, a few of what appeared to be trail riders like myself, and lots of cows. Soon I arrived at what my map called “Sweetwater well”.

There appeared to be recent grading work for a small earth tank here, and about 50 yards away was an old windmill who had been retired by what seemed to be a solar powered electric pump. Indeed, the old metal tank it fed was full of water. And reeds.

The Old Windmill has retired...

...and given way to that new fangled "solar electricity"...

...to produce sweet water!

The trail continued up the hill to the west, but my plan was to head back across the small wash I had crossed, check out an old corral, and explore the area nearer the highway. But the uphill trail wasn’t on my maps, and those seem to lead to the most interesting places, so I couldn’t resist heading up to the top where I expected it to end with a nice view.

A nice view indeed, but the trail kept going. Maps showed a “Jeep trail” to the west, and it seemed to be where I was heading. Sure enough, I was dumped into a now-known trail heading over very rocky ridges further to the west, and soon enough I was stuck in that cycle I get into where I say I’ll go to the top of the next ridge just to see what I can see, and then turn back. Usually, it takes several times to make good on my promise of turning, and this was no exception.

Along the way I spotted something a little odd looking in the form of what appeared to by an old telephone pole. I thought I has seen this earlier, but brushed it off as a dead Saguaro, which can take on a very “old wood” like appearance. As the ridges kept coming, though, it was apparent that these were indeed some sort of old utility pole. In fact, as I got further west, several still had bare wire attached to them. As rocky as this area is, it must have been a nightmare to install these.

Wire, still attached.

This fueled my ridge hopping, hoping to find an old mine or something associated with these poles. The poles kept coming however, and good judgement finally won out, and I turned back, vowing to find an answer to this mystery. I took a break on some rock formations, played with the panorama feature on my phone camera to try and capture some of the marvel of this terrain.

A post ride Google search tells me that these were “teleco” lines that connected Muleshoe ranch to Hillside, and that they were used up until “surprisingly recently”, though the comment was not dated. More added to the list to explore.

After the break, I back-tracked to the old corral and snapped some pics.

Afterwards, I headed down a little-used side trail that headed towards the main highway. Again, this trail would its way through some seriously rocky washed sections, then a deep canyon, before climbing a ridge and dumping me right beside the main road. Here I ate my Beefaroni over Sterno, and enjoyed a Cosmic Brownie to the sound of Harley's chugging up the pavement.

The sun was getting low, and I headed back for the waiting trailer via my river-bank route. By this time, the various RV’s were cooking dinner, and the smell of grilled steak and hamburger accompanied by wood smoke drifted over the flowing Santa Maria, while the setting sun made the desert terrain take on a warm glow you saw in the lead photo.

What a great place to camp. And ride. Soon, I hope to do it again.